


Boys and Their Toys

by NeoVenus22



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Community: sg_rarepairings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-21
Updated: 2010-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoVenus22/pseuds/NeoVenus22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Cameron figured he was a type.  The alpha male, need for speed, Maverick-in-Top Gun throttle jockey.  And then he'd met John Sheppard.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys and Their Toys

Cameron didn't join the military because he had a fascination with weapons. Although he did have an ex-girlfriend who'd snidely remarked on all the gun-toting ooh-rah boys who 'might as well just go wave their penises at the enemy for how subtle they're being.' While he wouldn't deny there was a dangerously heady power in being armed, he never really thought it was overcompensation. The car, maybe. The fighter jet... okay, probably. The gun? Small potatoes.

Cameron figured he was a type. The alpha male, need for speed, Maverick-in-_Top Gun_ throttle jockey. And then he'd met John Sheppard. And watching the smooth, careful, precise way he manhandled his sidearm set gears turning in Cameron's head that he'd long since thought had rusted over.

"Want me to clean your weapon when I'm done, Mitchell?" Sheppard asked with a casual sort of cheer that fell just short of being either cheerful or casual. Mitchell watched him slam in the cartridge with calloused hands, imagining all too easily those fingers digging into his hips... and realized he was staring.

"No, it's fine, it's done." And he flicked a smile so quick and pained that Sheppard got to laughing. "What?"

"Get a poker face."

Cameron was a bit put out by that. "I have a poker face." Sheppard started laughing again, which was just sort of cruel. "I do. I play poker with Teal'c. The guy is the definition of stoic and I managed to kick his ass and win his pie. Twice." John still had the audacity to look smug. "I have a poker face."

"You've been staring at me for the past half hour like you want to drag me off into a closet," said John calmly, tucking his gun away. Cameron watched the effortless progress of his hands, wondered if he was concealing weapons like Cameron was, thinking about frisking him to find out. "And now you're doing it again," said John. "Christ, Mitchell, and they say I'm bad."

"No, you just stare at _every_one like you're mentally undressing them." It wasn't quite meant as an insult, which was just as well, because it didn't come off as one at all. They both knew that lazy smirk was the whole reason this had started in the first place. John was kind of a bastard that way.

"So I'm supposed to be flattered, then?"

"Maybe."

"Okay. But get your priorities in order. We've got a job to do, Mitchell." John nodded at the van door, which they were to bust out of at any minute, guns blazing. "Getting into my pants can wait."

"There's a sentence I never thought I'd hear you say," shot Cameron, aching to get in the last word, but John looked unfazed.

"First time for everything," John said, crouching by the door and waiting for the signal. "Like maybe someday you'll out-shoot me."

"Try every day," scoffed Cameron, echoing his posture.

John raised an eyebrow. "Like you out-fly me?"

"Hey. You have an unfair advantage..."

"We could use some backup here," Barrett's voice came over the radio, effectively ending the conversation.

"We'll pick this up later," said John, and jumped out of the van.

Cameron followed closely on his heels, pacing with John's stride, the gun warming in his hands, and thought this was the best job on the planet.


End file.
